


My Plus One

by Watergirl1968



Series: Voices In The Bone [7]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Divergence, Eremin - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand-job, M/M, Public Sex, eren x armin - Freeform, voices in the bone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watergirl1968/pseuds/Watergirl1968
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren is Armin's 'plus one' at a strategy dinner. And is unbelievably naughty. After just two ciders. Sheesh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Plus One

**Author's Note:**

> Voices in the Bone canon-divergent AU. Eren & Armin are 19.

The tide of a war turns, not with a great swell, but rather with the lightest of ripples. Erwin's assessment was correct, Eren mused; humans do want to live in hope, and the mood of the strategy dinner he was attending was decidedly just that: hopeful.

All of the desks, lamps, cabinets and papers had been emptied out of the ground floor room of the rotunda - the ancient library that the Survey Corps had adopted into their new compound after discovering it half-buried in all it's serenity, in a deep wood.

Round tables had been set there and laid with white linen. The food wasn't overly posh, but it was plentiful; pork and apple tart, shelled peas, tubers, beets. Cabbage and sausage. A mousse made with vanilla bean and port. Crusty bread with olive oil and tarragon. 

Eren, famously uncomfortable at such functions, was feeling more at ease. He was no longer (or at least not solely) a curiosity to be gawped at. He now had a function, some expertise, and as a result, some conversation; Eren was a horse man. They had become his passion. He discussed horses with anyone who would listen, which was most everyone. And the cassis and cider he was sipping - at least it felt like sipping? - was loosening his tongue considerably.

The meal was underway, the lamps on the table throwing the assembly into macabre relief on the rotunda walls. The light was spectral, beautiful, thought Eren. He was seated at a round table with Armin, Commander Smith, Captain Rivaille, the head engineer of the territory reclaimation project and his wife, a woman with an enormous, snow-white bosom.

He was, his mouth quirked happily, Armin's date. This was a strategy session and Eren, whether titan shifter or stable manager or soldier, was a doer, not a planner. Armin was the planner. Eren was just his 'plus one'.

The dinner was winding down, and speakers were addressing the audience. Their voices were magnified by the acoustics of the rotunda's domed ceiling.

Armin and Commander Smith were passing pages back and forth between them. Erwin Smith was to address the assembly after the next speaker. Armin had a pencil behind one ear, and his wire-rimmed glasses on his nose. His blond hair was immaculately pulled back, and gleamed in the creamy light from the table lamp. Armin reached over, crossing something out on one of the pages and shaking his head. Erwin nodded. A lock of hair slipped from Armin's small ponytail, swinging against his cheek.

Eren's belly hitched. _Fuck, fuck, Armin was beautiful._ He had been a sweet child, but now that he was scratching the surface of manhood, he was exquisite. Long, articulate hands, fine-boned features, cursive mouth. And most times, he seemed utterly oblivious to the effect he had on others.

At present, he was rolling his ornate sleeves back with some annoyance, pushing his glasses up onto the bridge of his button nose with one thumb, and jabbing at the page. "No, sir, refer to this table, _here…"_

Eren slid his chair a little closer to Armin's, his thigh nestling companionably against his lover's. 

"So please, Mr. Jaeger, do tell me more about your _fine_ dapple grey," drawled the huge-bosomed engineer's wife, also a horse enthusiast.

Eren was more than happy to talk about Cricket. Also more than happy to lay a hand on Armin's thigh under the tablecloth, in the dimly lit rotunda. 

Armin made a small hissing noise, out of the side of his mouth, without diverting his attention from Erwin. Eren was discussing Cricket's sire and dam with the woman. He ran his hand, slowly, up Armin's thigh, to the warm crease where it joined his groin. And left it there.

There was a round of applause as one of the speakers concluded his presentation. Eren inclined his head politely, tapping his glass with a piece of silverware. His left hand remained on Armin's thigh, stretching out his fingers to brush against the front of his pants.

A new speaker was taking the podium. Eren chanced a look at Armin. Armin was staring fixedly at the ceiling, where the soldier's god, Mithras, danced his dance with the sacred bull. Armin's throat bobbed as he swallowed. He lowered his head, ignoring Eren and fixing his attention on the podium.

Eren ran his hand over the small buttons closing Armin's fly with the lightest of strokes. While the others at the table watched the presenter, Eren watched Armin. God, he could look at the boy all night. _How on earth had their friendship ever caught fire like this?_ He kept stroking gently, feeling a slow heat as Armin's cock began to thicken under his ministrations. Armin's tongue darted out, moistening his lips. He refused to look at Eren. He swallowed again, and his breathing deepened.

Eren allowed his sensitive fingers to glide up and down the length of Armin's arousal, fingertips pressing gentle circles to the head of his cock through the dress blue trousers. He stilled his hand, for a couple of heartbeats. Under the table, Armin's hips hitched just a little, pushing against his hand. 

Eren was startled out of his reverie by Erwin asking Armin a question. With perfect cool, Armin pulled out a page, circled something and handed it to their Commander.

Eren squeezed gently.

Armin's lower lip disappeared between his teeth. His chest rose and fell, deeply and evenly. A sweet flush was speeding across his cheeks. His lips were ruddy. Funny, Eren had always thought that the cherry red lips were from his rough kisses; apparently, the pink flush was purely from want.

He leaned over, placing his lips behind Armin's ear. "Do you think I'm a beast?" he whispered.

"Yes," said Armin

"If I'm such a beast, then why don't you close your legs?" he murmured.

The speaker concluded. Eren withdrew his hand, applauding. Erwin rose, straightened his dinner jacket, and nodded at Armin. Who smiled brightly. 

When Erwin took the stage to offer the evening's closing comments, Eren returned his hand to Armin's lap. Armin had opened his fly, his slender legs parted to accommodate Eren's hand. Armin was wearing underpants of a fine, light fabric; Eren could feel the heat of his body even before his hand slid inside them, fingers curling lovingly around his boy's cock. He kept his strokes light, teasing. Fascinated, he watched Armin. The pupils of his bluebell eyes were dilated, the light catching his thick, pale lashes. Eren pulled Armin's linen napkin a little lower on his lap, tucking it gently into his fly. He removed his hand, allowing his fingers to drift over his bread plate, dipping them into the olive oil.

Erwin's voice rose and fell in the library, as he warmed to his subject. Eren slid his fingers around Armin again, closing them snugly. The boy's eyes fluttered shut and his lips parted. He began to pant softly. 

"Are you ill, Mr. Arlert?" the engineer, a kind man with jowls, asked.

"I - I am quite fine, thank you, sir. I've been unwell this past week, and it's left me rather fragile," Armin nodded politely. Eren had Armin's entire, throbbing length in hand now, working him from root to achingly sensitive tip, with steady pressure. Armin propped his elbows on the table, fingers laced and mouth against his hands, as if he were pondering Erwin's words. His knuckles whitened as Eren's fingers twisted deliciously, calloused thumb rubbing mercilessly over his sweet spot. Under the table, he rocked rhythmically into Eren's hand, faster now, and erratically.

Eren watched his lover, captivated. Armin seemed to hold his breath now, taking air in panicked little sips. His body was rigid, sweat moistening his hairline. Fingers shaking, he stole Eren's dinner linen from the table, pressing it against his mouth as his cock pulsed in Eren's hand, soaking the napkin in his lap with come. And then again.

Erwin had galvanized the room. While all eyes were on him, Eren gently wiped Armin, folded the soiled napkin and dropped it surreptitiously onto the floor. Armin dropped his forehead onto his laced fingers, gasping softly.

Thunderous applause. 

 

 

 


End file.
